


hung up

by pulpofiction (pifflapodus_scriptor)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M, Fellatio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pifflapodus_scriptor/pseuds/pulpofiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mako gets an early morning phone call. Korra is not pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hung up

**Author's Note:**

> when will they get back together

The brassy shrill ring of the telephone yanks Korra from a deep sleep. She rolls over, groaning as beside her Mako mutters and sits up. The morning light plays through the air, softer than smoke, pale and milky; and not quite reaching their side of the bedroom. Through the crack in the curtains she can see the waves sparkling across Yue Bay. Mako throws the sheets back and swings his legs over the side of the bed as Korra resettles on her front, hugging the pillow to her chest and watching him. It’s far too early for a phone call. There’s only a few people who would ever think to call them at this hour, only inches past dawn, and she resents all of them for it. Waking people up this early should be illegal, she thinks, as Mako sighs and finally yanks the still-ringing phone off the cradle.

“This is Mako – oh. Good morning, Chief,” he says, and Korra sighs. Figures. Mako’s back is cut in half by shadow, a line that rolls over the bones of his spine and the muscles that shift with each movement he makes. Tucks the phone between his shoulder and his jaw and leans over, resting a forearm on his thigh, reaching for his pack of cigarettes on the nightstand with the other hand. It’s quiet enough to hear snatches of Bei Fong’s voice through the phone, husky and brisk, broken once by the sound of Mako snapping his fingers as he lights a cigarette: _few more days off, but update – the Tae case you’re working, Detective Lang found another witness, the teenage girl –_

“Good to hear it. Did she get her statement yet?” Mako says, blowing a feathery line of smoke into the air, and Korra sniffs, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Normally he wouldn’t smoke with her around, but normally they’re on Air Temple Island in her bedroom, and this is his apartment and _his_ bedroom. She slides out of bed, shivering slightly at the touch of cool air on her bare skin, and pads over to the window, throwing the curtains open and lifting the window to let in the breeze. Mako glances at her, his gaze trailing down her naked body as he takes a pull of his cigarette. She looks back, bracing a hand on her hip, admiring him in return with narrowed eyes and a slight smirk: the thick, rolling muscles of his arms and thighs, the sharpness of his profile, all straight angles and strong lines; the dense build of his chest, ribbed with shallow dips and ridges. Even now, after everything, he blushes under her stare. Color sweeps heated across his cheeks and Korra’s smirk widens into a crooked smile.

“…right. Yeah, that doesn’t – that’s not what the other witness said. That’s, um, that’s inconsistent,” Mako says, blinking and shaking his head, hastily taking another drag. Korra saunters over, standing in front of him and running a hand through his hair, back and forth, so that it sticks up in all directions and falls over his forehead at a rakish angle. The cigarette smoke floats up between them in a thin, winding thread and she locks eyes with him as she sinks to her knees on the rug, resting her arms atop his thighs. She plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it in the ashtray, leaving it to burn away.

“No, let’s call him back in,” Mako says, frowning at her with a quizzical look.“Tell Detective Lang to poke holes in his story… find out where he was after he left the baaahh…”

He huffs as Korra lifts his arm out of the way and bows her head, mouthing at the base of his cock. She pushes his knees apart and lips down the length with slow, gentle licks, sucking on the velvety skin, feeling it harden slowly but surely – Mako sighs breathlessly, cupping the back of her head as she flattens her tongue and licks his cock up and down, pausing to leave damp kisses, her mouth never quite staying and never quite leaving. She puckers her mouth over the tip, teasing with wet flicks of her tongue, ignoring the slight musky scent of his skin and relishing instead the haggard sound of his breathing. He’s still trying to talk to Bei Fong. Always so dedicated to his job…

“Trolleys stop at ten – lying – he’s hiding s-something,” Mako gasps, as Korra takes all of him, closing her eyes and sliding her mouth in a tight ‘o’ down the length, the top of her head brushing against his chest. She can almost taste him aching, bitter and hot and slick; and she reaches down to stroke herself, coaxing out a pleasant, throbbing heat. “In the statement,” he groans, leaning his head back; his hand tangling in her hair is more gesture than direction. She wraps her hand around his cock and keeps going, slowly and precisely, tracing winding patterns with her tongue. All the way in towards the back of her throat, breathing hard; all the way out until her lips are poised and slipping over the tip.

He’s panting when she lifts her head and spares him a glance, his skin dusted with a sheen of sweat – Korra places a hand on his chest and pushes him down onto the bed as she rises, wiping her mouth with her thumb, scraping the flavor off her tongue with her teeth. Mako stares at her, his lidded eyes glowing and feverish through his lashes, his mouth slack – and that damn phone still pressed to his ear.

“Chief, I have to – Chief, something came up – ” He bites his lip and grimaces at Korra, the voice on the other line continuing with blithe gusto.

Korra grins. Something came up, _indeed_.

She lifts a single finger to her lips, straddles his thighs, and reaches for his wallet on the nightstand, deftly extracting a slim foil packet. Korra rolls the condom down his cock and scoots forward, mounting him with a slick, almost obscene sound, her muscles clenching around the feeling of him thick and heavy inside of her. She sighs happily and slides her hands up his damp chest to his collarbone, up his neck, one hand under his jaw. His eyes flutter shut as she pushes his head back and squeezes, just enough for him to feel a heady, breathless rush of blood when she lets go. She likes him like this, sprawled out underneath her, bare and vulnerable and willing. Never minds a bruise or two.

“Yeah, still here, I’m listening,” he chokes out, red-faced, nodding into the phone. “But, Chief, I really have to – ”

She rolls her hips once and he clamps down on the words, teeth bared and eyes screwed shut. Korra almost laughs. He won’t last long trying to keep that up, not with her on top and rocking forward just when he thinks she won’t - a powerful pump of her hips, a wave of pleasure flooding through her body, soft and hot. Mako can’t help it this time and a groan falls from his open mouth, deep and guttural. Korra lifts an eyebrow as the voice on the other side of the receiver cuts off. It’s not hard to imagine Bei Fong’s look of abrupt surprise, her skeptical look towards the phone, wondering what the flameo her detective is doing… so Korra leans forward, cups her hand over Mako’s mouth, and removes the phone from his weakened grasp.

“Hi, Chief Crankypants. It’s me. Mako’s a little busy right now,” she says cheerfully, picking up a slow, easy rhythm, Mako begging her to go faster with his hands curving tightly around her hips, fingers dimpling into the small of her back; but she takes her time. “Can he call you back later?”

“Korra, we were in the middle of something,” Lin says, with more than a touch of exasperation, and Korra shrugs. Her toes curl with another dizzying rush and Mako whines into her hand as she sheathes him a few more times, dragging out every move with deliberate exaggeration.

“Sorry, Chief. He only has three more days off, and I need to make them count,” Korra says. There’s a brief moment of silence from Bei Fong. Korra slips her thumb into Mako’s mouth, pulls on his lip, all the lines of his torso tight with the tension of wanting. His expression fraught with desire, pupils blown to inky black pools.

Then: “Wait. Are you doing what I think you’re doing?!”

“Case closed,” Korra says, and leans over to drop the phone onto the cradle.

“I can’t believe it,” Mako breathes. “That was work. That was important, Korra. I honestly can’t – ”

“Yes you can,” Korra says, touching her forehead to his and rubbing his nose with hers. Mako sighs in resignation.

“You’re right. Of course I can believe it. You’re the only person in the world who’d dare to hang up on Chief Bei Fong.”

Korra laughs.

"That’ll teach her to call at six in the morning."

She cups his face and kisses him, her tongue sliding into his mouth, their lips locking together with desperate hunger. At last she starts to move faster, the insides of her thighs slamming against his hips, Mako gripping her ass with bruising strength. Maybe, just maybe, the morning isn’t so evil after all, not with the cool shadows hanging on the walls, the breeze drawing the air thick with smoke from his bedroom, their breath coming in short, exhilarated gasps and their bodies sticking together with sweat and heat. And when they’re done she collapses onto him, draping herself across his chest, stroking her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair as she watches him drift back to sleep, completely spent. There’s no need to rush. They have all day.


End file.
